


Reasons to Be There

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Carey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Kushiel's Mercy; an unexpected reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons to Be There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie/gifts).



> Dear Callie, I hope that you enjoy this little snippet of story about Imriel post-Mercy. Your prompts were quite inspirational! Cheers, a mad Yuletider.

Anielle was absorbed in some child’s game out in the garden, a game that involved speaking very earnestly to the trees and flowers, moving slowly from one to the next. Whether she was saying the same thing to all of them or had an unique message for each of them, I did not know, but it was nothing short of fascinating to watch her.

I sat just outside the doors that opened onto the garden, reading; it was too lovely a day to spend it indoors, not when I could watch my roving daughter as she engaged in her secret mission. Every so often she would walk to the fountain in the centre of the lawn, dipping her hands into the silver splashing water and carrying the water to a particular plant. No matter what books I studied or for how long, I would never understand why children did some of the things they did, and for that I was grateful. It was more enjoyable to watch the mystery.

‘She’s so _solemn_,’ Sidonie said from behind me, coming out to stand beside my chair.

‘I daresay she gets that from her mother,’ I said, putting my book down and rising to embrace her, to put one hand on her belly, in the final full bloom of her pregnancy. We were both delighted and wary regarding the impending birth, as Anielle was still only four, a ripe age for jealousy.

Sidonie wrinkled her nose at me, for a moment looking far more like Alais than herself. ‘I don’t think I was that serious as a child.’

‘I wonder if the flowers have a message for her as well?’

‘I don’t know, but I think we’d best go and join her. She’s further away than I’d—oh, gods!’

I released her and spun around, one hand going for my dagger as I saw the shadowy figure that Sidonie had seen, stepping out from behind the trees closest to the wall. I lifted my hand, ready to throw, but the figure raised its own hands and moved slowly into the sunshine. Even hidden by the cloak, I recognised the grace and poise of that body’s movements, and lowered my hand.

‘Imri—’

Anielle, who had been raised by two extremely overprotective parents, to say nothing of Phèdre, Joscelin, Ysandre and countless others who wished to see her safe, took one look at the cloaked figure and bolted towards me. I caught her and handed her off to Sidonie, then hurried down the steps onto the grass. The cloaked figure made no attempt to flee.

‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded as soon as I knew she could hear me. ‘Are you mad, or simply suicidal?’

My mother calmly raised her hands to push back her hood; though we stood some distance away I still heard Sidonie’s gasp of recognition as my mother’s blue-black hair fell free of the velvet.

‘I came to see you.’ Her eyes shifted past me to Sidonie and Anielle. ‘And my grandchild.’

‘Her name is Anielle,’ I said tightly.

‘How would I know that? You never told me. You never wrote to me, never tried to contact me.’

‘For your own protection!’

She still looked as lovely as ever, but her beauty was tinged with sadness. She nodded at my words. ‘I can understand that. But Imriel, I went so many long years without seeing you. The time we had together on Cythera; I treasured that time. And now, to know you have a child, to know there are twins on the way; that is news that reached my ears even without your personal communication.’ It stung. Doubtless she intended it to. She went on. ‘You may think I am mad for daring to come here. But if you had spent so many years separated from Anielle, and at last found her again only to then lose her once more, would you not reach the point where you were willing to take a few risks just to see her, to know that she was alive and well?’

I looked away from her, at Sidonie and at Anielle. Anielle had Sidonie’s blonde hair, but she had my blue eyes. My mother’s blue eyes. Anielle’s eyes were wide, but with curiosity, not fear. Sidonie had one eyebrow cocked, her hands laced protectively over her belly, but the rest of her stance and expression waiting for my actions to guide hers.

‘Well.’ My throat was dry; I had to swallow hard in order to speak properly. ‘Since you’ve already seen the garden, perhaps you had better come inside and meet my wife and daughter.’

Her laughter was full of relief and gratitude as well as appreciation of my attempt at humour. I had to try to be flippant. I feared that if I were too serious, the illusion of normalcy would come crashing down. I took her arm and led her towards the house. Sidonie stood waiting; Anielle jiggled from foot to foot, the patience that had led her from flower to flower so diligently failing her now with this stranger’s appearance.

We stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I wasn’t sure that my voice would come out steadily, but it did as I said, ‘Sidonie, this is my mother.’

‘I’m well aware of that,’ Sidonie said tartly.

My mother bowed her head. ‘I should go.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Sidonie held out her hand. ‘Doubtless you understand why I find it... _difficult_ to welcome you.’

‘Of course.’

‘Nonetheless, I do welcome you. I am a mother too, you see.’

Their eyes met and locked, and between them passed some kind of secret feminine wisdom that I was not and could never be privy to. At last my mother’s eyes lowered, and the twitch of a smile pulled at the corner of Sidonie’s lips.

‘Come inside. Family reunions are always best conducted over food.’

‘We can’t tell anyone else she’s here,’ I objected.

Sidonie’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s why you’re doing the cooking, my love.’ She laughed, and my mother laughed, and Anielle laughed because they were both laughing, and I sighed and watched the three of them go into the house before I went into the kitchen in search of Sidonie’s favourite sugar biscuits.


End file.
